Drown
by OpalSkyes
Summary: Water- at least, he hoped it was water- filled his lungs like a hose would fill a water balloon. Was anyone coming to help him? He couldn't tell. The world was only darkness to him, after all. It was by mere chance that he could feel it. But strong arms were suddenly pulling him up from the ocean that surrounded him. Someone was there. Someone had come for him.
1. Chapter 1

_Freak_.

Push.

 _Mutant_.

Shove.

 _Monster_.

Drop.

It didn't make any sense to him.

Water flooded his nostrils with the one last breath he had tried to take once his socks had been soaked at the tips. The salty taste of the ocean was burned into his tongue and seared his corneas- although they weren't very useful. But his eyes stayed open throughout the pain the saltwater brang. And he didn't know why.

His legs were useless; tied together with what felt like wire from the slicing feeling it left on his calves as he had struggled. The short-sleeved jacket he always wore had shimmied down his arms, resting between his hands which were tightly pushed side-by-side and making his shoulder blades jut out like wings on a featherless bird.

And still, he sunk. Down, down, down into the ocean. Where his feet were flapping like useless flippers and his toes had long gone numb from the cold water seeping into his woolen socks. Did he mention that they had tied his ankles together, too? With the weight of what seemed to be his shoes, worn and dusty- although he imagined that they were clean, now - and way too large on his feet. The laces weaved around the joint between his shins and feet.

His own clothes were causing him to sink until the tips of his toes touched the ground. His scarf had been abandoned on the dock above him, thankfully. He let out the breath that had been lodged in his hoarse throat all of this time. And he thought about his life, unwelcome and cold. The disability that separated him from the normal and abnormal. And he thought about now, the tightness in his chest and the soothing feeling from the ocean telling him it was.. Alright.

Maybe he would be crying if he wasn't already submerged in water. But he was. He couldn't pretend that he wasn't. He could never be so oblivious to the world.

 _He was going to die_.

The bubbles floated into his nostrils as he coughed, hacking his lungs out in a desperate attempt for air. He needed oxygen right now. But he knew that it wasn't coming. The deaf laughs of children leaving from the dock were enough to tell him that air wasn't coming. No one else was coming, either.

He was alone.

He _hated_ being alone.

Loneliness meant unawareness. But he wasn't unaware of his surroundings now. If only he hadn't been so stupid as to let them gently lead him to the edge of the wooden platform, where his feet couldn't feel the splinters and roughness of the hard, fibrous material due to the shoes they had so generously given him only days earlier. Of which he had accepted without thought because of plain politeness and the few possessions that he had.

Of which they had refused to let him touch. Of which they had slid onto his small feet and tied so tightly that he could feel the red substance that usually lazy-rivered through his veins cease to flow into his toes.

The soothing words they had given him were all fake, he realized as the irregular darkness of his vision took on a new type of gloom. _It's alright._ _We're bringing you to a beautiful,_ peaceful _place_ , they had said. They knew just what he enjoyed, too. They knew enough to scheme a plot that would take the thing he loved most and make him absolutely _hate it_. _Seethe_ with agony at the dying silence the ocean gave him during his final moments on Earth.

And as he felt his arms and legs go tingly numb and his head lowered in defeat-no, acceptance. He had already accepted the fact that he was going to die - something around him shifted. Hope boiled in his empty stomach, of which was heavily heaving with both distress and the bruises of the fist that had slammed into it earlier. Maybe he..

No, it was probably just a fish.

He closed his eyes tightly, uselessly for the first time in the mere minute he had been submerged in this hellhole. Although, it felt more like an eternity had passed, from the seconds of shock he had been allowed to when his desensitized covered toes had brushed against the textured rock. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to-

That movement again. Like the swirling of a whirlpool, heading down, down, down towards him. The bubble of desire had long since been popped by the sharp stained-glass of despair. His eyes shut tighter, closer together in an anguished attempt to close out all of this tainted hope. The yearning for salvation would only murder the shattered remains of his soul.

But there it was again. And again. Closer and closer it got, became the only thing his tangled brain could focus on. Closer and closer, he could feel the waves of strangely warm breath heat up the skin on the back of his neck. Closer and closer, those damned _gentle_ fingers wrapped around the restraints on his wrists that twined up his arms and clutched to his shoulders, encasing the limbs in a swaddle of thick wire.

And he struggled weakly, mind slowly closing the doors of thought and breaking down inside of them. A large kitchen knife seemed to be cutting up the misty clouds of ice into tiny little itsy-bitsy pieces as his toes left the rock he had been so precariously perched upon. And up he went, away from the kelp and loneliness and feelings of abandonment. Was he being taken to heaven? His breath would have hitched if he hadn't been underwater.

Had he died?

The lingering question on his mind as everything went darker than night. Pitch black. The next thing he knew, something downy and wet was stuck to his eyes like glue and his head was bobbing up and down nonchalantly. No, he wasn't dead.

At least, he hoped not.


	2. Chapter 2

**I would like to thank greekgeekgirlbro for reviewing and favoriting this story, so kudos to you! Now, enjoy!**

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"Are you alright?"

The clean, boyish voice of his savior soared almost clean through his ears, muted and quiet from the bubbles of water stuck inside them. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, both gasping for air and searching for words. Was he alive?

"You're being stupid, Seaweed Brain! Now, get him out of the water."

A brash, feminine voice this time. There were two of them? Two saviors? And one of them was called.. Seaweed Brain? Odd.

But now he was being hoisted out of the water by his arms, of which were being painfully twisted above him. A hiss came from between clenched teeth, and suddenly he was dropped. Back into the water, back into that hellhole. A sharp scream, one full of terror and agony and anguish and fear and-

He broke the surface again, this time held by the waist. His eyes were stinging with saltwater again, and he felt the rushed beating of his heart slamming against his heaving chest, like a parasite was trying to burst through it.

"Get him OUT! NOW!"

The woman's loud voice burst the air bubbles in his ears with an audible pop! and the arms around him shifted, pulling him towards something. "Calm down, Annabeth. He's perfectly fine." Something fiery burned in his stomach, making the area warm and cozy for the first time in what felt like forever. He was most definitely not perfectly fine. Seaweed Brain fit his savior after all.

"I-" Coughing, coughing, hacking his lungs out. Wheezing, air clutching at the roughness in his throat. The arms moved to his own and heaved him away from Seaweed Brain, onto the dry land that was hard against his skin and jabbing into his shoulder blades. He tried again, breath returned yet wavering.

"I a-am not p-p-perfectly f-ine.."

Those damned gentle fingers were around his calves now, working at the tight wire that wrapped around him like a present being prepared for Christmas. "Shh, Kid." The woman- Annabeth, Seaweed Brain had said- cooed into his ears, her own rougher hands rolling him onto his side and taking his wrists into her grasp. The bindings became loser around his legs, feeling tingling into the area and forcing a sigh out from his chapped lips.

"N-no.."

A delusional whine made his throat sear with pain, as if the high-pitched sound was running a fork up and down his neck. The wires were unwrapped from his calves, his legs quickly pulling up towards his chest. "Calm down, Kiddo." Seaweed Brain inched forward- the sand shifted underneath him- and wrapped his smooth fingers against his ankles. He jerked back, taking a deep breath through his nose. Seaweed Brain smelled like saltwater and green tea.

He kicked again, trying to get farther away from the smell of abandonment, of torture, of deception. And closer to the smell of old papyrus and wrinkled pages, of drying concrete and rusty tools. Towards Annabeth.

The hand only pressed harder. Seaweed Brain was starting to get agitated, and a pool of fear added to the ocean inside of him. "We're just trying to help you, Kid. So suck it up and-" Annabeth growled over his cry of despair. "Shut up and don't be a hypocrite, Perseus Jackson." The feeling of wire pressing against his wrists and shoulder blades was gone, replaced by the slow hands on his elbows that were slowly circling his stiff arms.

Seaweed Brain- Perseus Jackson was way too normal of a name to call him- grumbled and started to untie his ankles again, pressing the wire harder into his skin than before. He didn't complain, although he was sure that his eyes, sightless as they may be, were wild and scared. If they could even hold emotion, that is. He had never really given it any thought.

"Just relax, Ocean Boy. This might hurt a bit."

What? What was she-

Crack!

"Aiee!"

His arms were jerked forward with undeniable force, dangerously nearing his face. His eyes were uselessly clutched as tight as they could possibly be and a sharp pain spread out through his limbs. Annabeth lowered his arms to his sides, where they lay limply along with the racking of his- He was-

"Annabeth, what did you do?!"

Tears streamed down his face like a fountain, the lingering pain increasing from the shaking of his body. He barely noticed when his ankles crossed each other freely and his arms stiffly hugged his knees to his chest, head ducked into the crevice created.

It was too much.

Way too much.

"Just trying some chiropractic therapy. Why?"

Too much.

It hurt so bad.

"You just-"

So bad.

"Am I too awesome for your Seaweed Brain to comprehend, Percy?"

He sobbed quietly now, hands tangled together and eyes staring blankly ahead of him. Someone shifted behind him, drawing closer and closer until their hand were resting on his cheek. It ran against his face, before swiping something up and, he guessed, observing it so closely it was like they were using a magnifying glass. "Are you.. Crying?" Seaweed Brain. He curled in closer.

"N-no.." There it was again, the baby-soft hands that were easily forcing his knees away from himself and making him sit upright. "Look at me in the eyes and tell me that." Panic struck through him. If they knew, they would probably just shove him back into the sea again. He searched wildly through the darkness for a set of what he imagined to be eyes, round and oval-like and soft.

But all he saw was darkness.

The hands clutched the sides of his face again, forcing his face closer to Seaweed Brain's supposedly and lifting his head. "Look at me!" Seaweed Brain growled gruffly. He could hear the grinding of teeth and the angry lilt at the end of his voice. The hands stopped his quivering from reaching his neck, but he commanded his sore arms to lift and search for Seaweed Brain's face.

"Percy, stop! You're just- What are you doing, Ocean Boy?"

His fingers brushed against something soft, tracing up what he assumed to be a toned chest and hooking onto the collar of a T-shirt. His small hands traveled higher, up Seaweed Brain's neck and cupping the angular chin, and the sharp Greek nose, and finally finding the crevices where- The hands left his face and snapped onto his wrists, pushing them down and making them clutch his own weathered, soaking wet pants.

"I-I'm.. I'm s-sorry.." Quietly, meekly he apologized, sightless eyes downcast although he was sure that they already knew. His fists clenched the cold material, fingers weaving into it and pulling it away from his trembling legs. He was gone. They were going to throw him back in. He knew it all along.

"Are-" Seaweed Brain's voice was unusually quiet, salty smell drifting into his nostrils and making him fidgety. He shut his eyes tightly, ready for the rejection, the outrage, the sudden burst of anger. Seaweed Brain gulped. So did Annabeth, who had moved closer and now rested a hand on his elbow.

"Are you..?"


	3. Chapter 3

_"Blind?"_

The fabric stretched under his slender fingers, water soaking into his palms and sending a shiver up his spine. The hand squeezed his elbow tightly, but he shuffled away from the comforting touch when Annabeth inched closer. "I-I'm sorry.." He squeaked, hunching over and sliding his hands towards himself. They didn't budge from the firm grip Seaweed Brain had on his wrists.

"So that's why you act so strange. Always wondered what it was like to be blind, too." Seaweed Brain snickered, when the sound of skin hitting skin reached his sensitive ears. One of the hands left his wrist, too, and he leaned in towards the squeaky rubbing noise coming from Seaweed Brain's face.

"Ow, Wise Girl! Why do you always hit me so hard and then-" Annabeth's hand left his elbow and he felt the sand shift as she shot forward, pushing Seaweed Brain down and leaving him free. He grimaced when the muffled, deep voice of Seaweed Brain turned into a slight groan and the popping of lips was followed by heavy breathing.

"G-gross.." He murmured, grains of sand sifting between his fingers as he moved his shaky legs underneath him. His toes were still numb as he slowly rose up and onto his feet, stumbling once before his knees buckled. That temporary blackout must have erased the memory of the baseball bat one of _ **his**_ goons carried, he winced.

And then their was something underneath him. Not sand, something radiating with heat and coziness and comfort and.. that familiarly soft T-shirt and salty smell and the memories flashed past of _Jack Pizarron_ and _Harrison Monalaok_ and _Frederick Colstale_ hitting him over the head with a _baseball bat_ and waking up _tied together like a Christmas present_ and the _cold_ and-

His back was on the ground now, with Seaweed Brain's cruel scent and Annabeth's warm one hovering above him, an overworked hand over his heart and dusty voices fading into his ears.

"..'e al..'ight?"

"...hyperventilating, Seaweed Brain."

"...'eeds help, an'.. right now."

"..Boy? Ocean Boy? C'mon, wake up. Percy would feel bad if you died from Hypothermia and shock."

His lips curved into a weak smile and his shaking fingers wrapped around her wrist, clinging to it tightly and memorizing the texture. "'m fine.." That nickname from before was..? " _Wise Girl._ " That's it. _Why was she called that anyway?_

"Hey! Only I can call Annabeth-"

"Let's get you standing, then." He could hear her smile as she hooked her arms underneath his armpits, easily standing him up and shifting him to hand between both her and a reluctant Seaweed Brain's shoulders. His arms were draped over their shoulders and he let his head droop, only for it to rise back up again.

"D-did you happen to find a-a-"

"Scarf? Got it, kiddo. Yours?"

He nodded, letting his head fall forward and the scarf's woolen material warm the skin on the back of his neck. It felt nice, this kind of comfort. His two saviors' especially. He would have to find a way to repay them, although he didn't exactly...

"What's your name anyway, Ocean Boy?" He felt his close-to-melted toes drag against the sand as they walked, and he did his best to move accordingly. But his stiff legs were barely responding. "A-Aomatos Volavit." He twitched, finally giving in to the dead feeling in his lower limbs.

"Aomatos, huh? Fitting." Seaweed Brain chortled, unfazed when Aomatos didn't respond. "So, Aoma, how'd you end up under the sea and chained up like a prisoner?" Seaweed Brain heard nothing from the small boy, who had his head cocked to the side towards Annabeth and his eyes closed. Percy waited silently, and was about to ask again when the boy's chapped lips parted.

" _Bullies._ " He croaked, eyes half-open and pupils constricted into tiny pinpoints of unawareness. "B-bullies with b-aseball bats." Aoma chuckled humorlessly, letting his eyes once again drift close after the mere seconds of them being open. "Baseball bats?" His body shook as Annabeth winced, unconsciously shifting so the Yankees cap in her pocket felt less exposed.

Aoma nodded, head bobbing loosely with an audible crack of his stiffened neck. "Hit me i-in the head. Knocked m-me out." He coughed for a moment, excess water leaving spittle on his lips before he continued. "Woke up wrapped i-in w-ire, and t-they dropped me i-in." Aoma could hear the gears in Annabeth's head turning as her hand tightened on the back of his shoulder, and almost so the confused look on Seaweed Brain's face.

"Uh, why?"

Aoma would have burst out laughing, if he currently wasn't drowning in stutters and the tears pouring down his face. Drowning, d-d-drowning, drowning _he just almost drowned_ drowned drowning _gasp_ breath air _breathe_ \- That damned salty taste flowed into his mouth as he laughed, head suddenly thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.

"W-why, you say?!" His chest tightened familiarly and he gulped in more air, greedily taking the invisible platter and stuffing it down his throat. It was _hilarious_ , Seaweed Brain's obliviousness. He ought to have seen- No, _they_ ought to have seen by now why he deserved to drown but had so evilly survived. Not like he was exactly _regretting_ the fresh feeling of inflated lungs..

" _Why?!_ I'm a _disgrace!_ A freak! A freak, _a freak, a freak,_ _ **a frea-**_ "

A hand was slapped over his mouth.

"Stop."


	4. Chapter 4

_To say he was relieved was an understatement._

That horrible feeling nagging at him always told him that he was a freak, an abomination of nature, an unfortunate soul in this world of cruelty. That he should die in the most painful, long, and torturous of ways. And, after a whole lifetime of.. Well, insults, he did the next worst thing.

 _He believed it._

"You're not a freak, 'kay Aoma? I can call you that, right?" He nodded against that damned baby-soft hand, almost thankful despite the touch that it was removed moments later. And so they continued on, his feet dragging uselessly against the grainy sand as they hauled him to.. Wherever they were bringing him. Wait, what?

"Where a-are we going?" Aoma rasped, salt settling in his throat and starting to burn even worse than before. "A safer place." Was Annabeth's simple answer. He let his head dangle uselessly again. Whatever. Anything was better than that orphanage. The mere thought sent shivers down his spine.

His eyes drifted closed and he let himself think. Think about the good times. The good times where someone would help him through the hallways at school, or the teachers would forget he was blind and treat him like a regular person. The good times where- _the bad times where_ someone would lock him into a bathroom stall just because he couldn't find his way out, or purposely lead him to the wrong classroom, or throw his lunch onto their tray and let him survive the day starving.

Teeth grit and hands clenching, he let out a breath and cleared his mind. It was better off not to think about his past at all. Now, he was going with these people. They seemed pretty nice. Nicer than he was used to, at least. Maybe they would actually let him stay with them, if he was luc-

They stopped dragging him and instead he was moved into someone's arms. Seaweed Brain, if he could go by the salt smell that now clogged his nose and throat and lungs. Before his feet left the ground, though, he realized that they hadn't been on sand for several minutes and had actually been on dry, cold, hard land. The kind of land that was covered with grass and flora and fauna and life. He opened his eyes and smiled at what he thought to be Seaweed Brain's face.

"Thank you." Aoma was proud that he didn't stutter. It made the phrase all the more meaningful. He shook away the thoughts and let himself be carried into.. Wherever they were taking him. But when they finally stepped through what he imagined to be a doorway, maybe an arch, if they were still outside, noise was the first thing he noticed.

There was loud screaming and the clanging of wood on wood or metal against metal, and the clopping of hooves, and the zipping sound of arrows cutting through the air. The sound of work being done, and kids playing basketball, and w- _w-water.._

His arms found themselves wrapped around Seaweed Brain's neck and his head ducked into his soft T-shirt. "T-there's water here.." He murmured into his neck, eyes glued shut and his sensitive ears trying their best to go deaf. Seaweed Brain seemed to walk a little faster, and apparently Annabeth had left for someone or something else as he couldn't smell her comforting scent, even through the T-shirt, or sense her presence.

"I know." Mumbled Seaweed Brain, shifting his arms to wrap around him tighter. Aoma felt himself being rocked around as he was leaned forward, feeling Seaweed Brain's heart rate pick up and his legs move even faster. He was running now, running towards somewhere. Somewhere close by, because-

 _Bang!_

"Chiron!" The sound of clopping hooves again- the water was out of hearing range now that they were inside- and rippling sinew and muscle. "Yes, Pe- Oh, a child." Aoma ignored the comment, it was true after all, and instead almost choked Seaweed Brain with his small arms. His own heart was racing now and he didn't know why. His whole body was shaking now and he didn't know why. He mind was being torn apart and he didn't know why and oh God oh God ohGod _ohGodohGod_ _DON'T HAVE A PANIC ATTACK NOW IT'S JUST-_

A foggy voice was yelling at him, telling him to wake up. Something plush and comfortable was underneath him, a couch, he presumed. His head was rolling at one mile per three hours and he just couldn't make out any proper English or anything at all, in fact. His fingers and toes felt numb, his feet especially cold. They had taken his socks off.

Actually, they had taken all of his clothes off except for his scarf and boxers. His salted skin was burning and cold and crispy and it hurt so bad and blistering and he just didn't know what to do until.. Something was placed to his lips. A straw, long and bendy and crinkly. He loved bendy straws.

But something was telling him not to sip at it. So he didn't. His instincts were usually right, an he never judged them, never was misled by them either. And he shifted closer to the cushions on the couch and away from the bendy straw.

"I don't w-want water. I-I don't want a-anything." He replied hoarsely, arms resting on his stomach limply. "You need to drink something, Aomatos." The flinch of surprise must have startled Chiron, who had somehow learned his name, because a drop of something cold and liquid-y plopped onto his arm and rolled down his skin.

His body stiffened, mind freezing and arms moving from his stomach to clamp around his knees, which had curled up to his chest and held there by his hands. "G-get it out!" Aoma screeched, almost on the verge of tears. Through the haze of disorientation he could sense the confusion of Chiron and alarm of Seaweed Brain.

Water just reminded him of d-drowning. The feeling of loneliness and despair and realization that he would and could never do anything with his life. He was useless. A waste of space. The one life form that could've been used to host a soul that could have saved the world from its hellish phase.

He knew, yes, he knew.

How the world, no, the people were wrecking havoc upon themselves. He was part of it. He was the one who could never accomplish anything because of his freakishness. He was a failure. He was-

Someone was rocking him, gently, carefully, cooing soothing words into his ears and holding him like he was about to float away. "Calm down," said the voice. "Calm down, Aoma. It's alright." A girlish voice. With a rusty smell that made him smile and soft hair tied into a pony tail and those dangling beads and rough jeans.

"You're fine, Aoma." Whispered Annabeth into his ear. But.. Something in him didn't listen. He kicked, he fought against the gentle but firm arms, something wet streaming down his cheeks but he didn't care to find out what. It could be _acid_ for all he cared.

"L-let me go!" His throat was scratchier than before. He heard a loud, desperate scream. It started to deplete in pitch as his limbs grew tired. They burned with fatigue, but he fought to keep going. And he did.

"Let m-m-me _goo!_ " Cried the child, as he had decided it was. "I don't w-want t-t-to _beee_ h-here!" Sobbing, the child's voice was breaking with hiccups and gasps for air. The wet things on his cheeks were dripping saltily into his mouth and down his chin. His arms were being held back by.. Hands. Baby-soft hands.

 _Whose?_ He couldn't tell anymore.

"A-Annabeth!" The child screeched, seemingly ignoring the fact that she was right there currently holding him. "Annabeth! I-I _neeed_ y-y-you!" His legs tired out. He was being pulled into something. The arms didn't move. They became tighter. He tried to fight back but he was just so.. _Tired._

"Shh.." The voice- who was it again?- shushed. "Quiet." It hissed, and his body fell limp into its arms and racking with.. sobs? Realization hit him and he let the wet things now known as tears on his face stream down quietly, incessantly.

"A-Annab-beth.." Aoma whispered one last time. "I don't w-want to g-go back h-home."


	5. Chapter 5

He was choking on the hiccups pushing through to his throat and he was sure that.. Annabeth, right? Yes, her. He was sure that she would have bruises by morning from how tightly he was clutching at her arms, short nails digging into the soft flesh and making crescent-moon craters out of her skin. "A-Annabeth.." His throat was raspy. It hurt to speak.

Aoma coughed into her T-Shirt, moving his legs to wrap around her waist as her grip loosened and he was shifted towards her. He could hear Percy's hard breathing on his left, and wondered where that irregular clopping of hooves had went. His eyelashes brushed against the fabric and he curled his hands around it. Chiron wasn't there, but other people were.

One with long, deep inhales and exhales and one with petite little gasps of air and one with an almost nervous hitch of breath. Oh, there were the hooves again. But they weren't Chiron's- his were louder, more noticeable. This one's was just a little clickity-clack against the mahogany floorboards. It felt odd to frown now after keeping a straight face for so long.

"U-uh.. Percy?"

Almost out of instinct he jumped and dug a deeper crevice into Annabeth's shirt. "Oops, sorry.." That sheepish little voice seemed like it could belong to the skittish clunk that grew ever so louder with each movement. Something radiated it's heat onto his back; Horse-boy was leaning over him. "Don't!" Vibrations rang in his sensitive ears as Annabeth snapped at the boy, who seemed to stumble away quickly and clumsily. The arms grew tighter around him, as if she was holding him in a cage.

And that seemed.. Alright.

The other breathers' were gone now, gone with the wind. Gone with the creak of the door hinges and the slam of wood against lock against metal. "Grover.." Started Seaweed Brain. So Horse-Boy's name was Grover. He liked that name. It reminded him of, well.. Earth, if he could actually see it. "A'lotta stuff's happened to this kid. His name's-" He coughed, pulling away from the hug and unwrapping his legs from Annabeth in order to scramble himself around to face where he thought they were.

"Aomatos V-Volavit." He rasped, bare arms resting on his bare legs and bare everything bared to the bearer of his clothes, by the odd dripping coming from his right. Aoma cleared his throat painfully, stood up with the legs of a newborn deer, and wrapped his arms around his abdomen. "Do you.. D-do you have a-a shower?" Although he hated water, the salt felt weird on his skin and made him itchy. Ew, what if he grows mold or algae or something?

Silence.

"Uh, y-you don't?" Aoma tried again. His eyes stung so he shut them. "..We do, come on." Finally, someone answered him. In a blur he was taken by the wrist and raced to where he presumed to be the bathroom, from the cold tile under his feet and the steamy aura that surrounded him and, well, everything, really. The hand was warm and rough, like the hand of an old man merged into a young one's. It confused him.

"I'm Grover. G-Grover Underwood. Nice to meet ya!" Grover was oddly cheery and it made his insides turn. The weight of terror and dread held him down like a chain, and for some odd reason he felt that Grover could sense that. Strange jolliness must be his way to cope with such emotions... The hand tugged and snapped Aoma out of thought.

"S-s-sorry!" He pulled at his hair with one hand and was drow- overwhelmed with relief once Grover let go of his wrist and moved to turn the tap on. A shiver ran up and down his spine once the splashing of water against hard porcelain reached his ears. A shuffle as Grover straightened up that made him drop the hand from his hair and wrap it around his abdomen, feeling suddenly revealed. Weird, he didn't feel this way before.

"...Is there something bothering you?" Asked Grover as they waited for the water to warm up. Aoma blinked and tilted his head to the left. "I g-guess so." His fingers gripped against crystals of salt that crumbled off of his body like sand. Ouch. "What is it?" Grover was trying to be soothing. A smile stretched across Aoma's face- it was working. He decided to share his secret.

"I-I can't see." He could hear the brushing of eyelashes against skin as Grover stood there in stupor, before surely plastering on a fake smile to make himself feel better and bending down to test the water temperature. "That.. Must suck." Yes, Grover definitely cringed at the insensitivity of his wording. Before he could apologize, Aoma stepped into the tub with the light tap on his back and shivered, slowly lowering himself into the water.

As soon as the hooves started to get quieter Aoma brang his knees to his chest and took a deep breath. "C-could you stay with me?" It was alright for Grover to stay, right? Because he had his boxers on, right? It wouldn't be.. Freakish? "Sure..?" Grover turned the statement into a question as he galloped back and sat down next to the tub.

"Do you need any help? Y'know.. Washing?" Aoma could feel a hand near his face and flinched back. The hand did, too. Gritting his teeth, he sucked it up with the squinting of his eyes and nodded slightly. "Y-yes, please.." A second later something cold and gooey was dripped onto his back and mixed in with the water he loathed so much. Aoma only squeezed his eyes tighter and slapped his hands over his ears in hopes of blocking out that damned trickling noise.

Now it was on his hair, making the long strands droop down onto his face and leave slimy trails of shampoo on his cheeks. Grover's hands felt.. Nice, on his head, a place he wouldn't let anyone else touch otherwise. He held in a sigh. And yet another person he had come to trust in this cruel world. He could only hope that there would be no betrayal this year. If he just-

"Kyaah!"

Water poured down on him like a hurricane and drenched his body, dripping off every angle every crevice his hunched form made. The cry wasn't loud, thanks to his hoarse throat, but surely startled Grover who had dropped something plastic-y onto the tiles and stumbled back on his hoof-born legs. "Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Grover squeaked, almost throwing a towel on top of him and letting Aoma wrap it around him like a cape.

"I-It's fine! I'm j-just a b-bit.." He trailed off. What was he, exactly? Scared? Tortured? Never mind, he found it. " _Traumatized._ " The word hissed past his lips seamlessly, not even stuttering once while he rose out of the tub and clutched the towel tighter to himself. Grover said nothing. And that scared him.

* * *

Percy's fingers tapped incessantly against his blue jeans, small indents making themselves known in the denim as the digits bounced up and down, left to right, starting with his thumb and rolling all the way down to his little pinkie. For some odd reason, he couldn't wait for the nervous, awkward young boy with the frayed scarf and dark brown cowlick to shimmy his way down the aisle from the bathroom to Rec Room.

But then there he was, fully clothed in a baggy orange T-shirt with the signature black pegasus and dark lettering, the worn blue jeans from- from his own closet, he snickered- and those signature yellow socks and scarf. For some reason, Grover was carrying a pair of blue trainers behind him. Looking closer, he couldn't help but laugh at the millions of times the pants legs had to be rolled up. Yet, Aoma seemed happy, and for some odd reason, that made him proud.

A smile made those dimpled cheeks rise, flushed and all, with those cute little freckles and large front teeth. The buck-toothed, greenish-grey eyed Aomatos Volavit that gave him that practical _'Aww, adorable'_ feeling and that _Mother Hen_ instinct. Percy felt like he needed to protect this boy. He had felt like that ever since he and Annabeth had dragged him out of the ocean. And he would do whatever he could to make this feeling a reality.

Grover was grinning, too. Probably because he had stolen his clothes. Yep, that was it. With a knowing glare and playful swat, Percy saw that devilish grin turn into a sheepish laugh. "You look good, champ." Percy stood, brushing off his jeans comically and striding over to Aoma. It was hilarious when the boy's cheeks flushed and his cowlick seemed on edge.

"T-thanks!" He squeaked, insecurely brushing a loose strand of combed brown hair away from his face. Which seemed to be porcelain, now that he thought about it. _He didn't.. get out that much?_ Percy guessed, taking Aoma by the shoulder, along with Grover, and leading him outside.


End file.
